


Fun and Games: Hide and Seek

by dragonofdispair



Series: Roads [34]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-01
Updated: 2008-05-01
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofdispair/pseuds/dragonofdispair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Playing hide and seek with the invisible race car.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fun and Games: Hide and Seek

Sergeant Mattox had, in a phrase, gotten used to the alien robots. Mostly. He'd been put through the "Meet, Greet, and Remember Not To Drop Your Gun" orientation (as it had been called by the veterans after the fact) and no longer had hysterics at the thought of Giant Alien Robots. Or the fact that they played frisbee. 

And listened to Christmas music. 

(Despite having been forewarned about the possibility, he'd still nearly fainted the first time he'd walked into a rec room to find that Scorponok had wedged himself through the doorway to take over the stereo system, with an obscenely cheery version of "Joy to the World" making it hard to think.)

But he was still more intimidated by them than was the norm among the more experienced personnel. As a result, he was given all sorts of unofficial errands that might have been considered hazing, if it weren't for the fact that the aliens were real.

Like now.

He knocked on the door in front of him.

"Come in," the office's owner called, sounding distracted. Mattox winced at the thought that he might be interrupting something, but he need to ask something.

"Doctor Jackson?"

Jackson looked up from the notebook where he was drawing what looked like a diagram of something. "Yes ... Sergeant Mattox?"

"I was wondering if you had any idea where to find the new one -- Mirage? I've looked everywhere I could think of."

The Autobots' anthropologist chewed a bit on his pen in thought. "No. If he's on base though, Ratchet should be able to help you. Last I heard he was doing inventory on their medical supplies."

Ratchet. Right.

Somehow Sergeant Mattox managed to exit the office with a small bit of his dignity intact. But he wasn't sure he wanted to go confront the Autobots' medic for this. Despite how shocked he'd been the first time he'd seen Ironhide, the black Autobot was relatively easy to get used to. He was a soldier -- a warrior -- it made sense that he would be intimidating. But Ratchet was a _medic_ and he intimidated even the other Autobots. He was snarly and he hit them, and to be perfectly frank, his bedside manner _sucked_. Whenever someone was brave enough to ask Doctor Jackson if he knew why the medic was like that, all they got was a "he wasn't programmed for war". No one had been brave enough to ask one of the Autobots, much less Ratchet himself.

He hesitated at the gate to the fenced off area used as the Autobot repair bay. The door to the storage warehouse that was used to house the Autobots' medical supplies was inside. It was set up that way so that there was a minimal delay in fetching necessary supplies. The med bay was officially off limits to humans, but that wasn't what was making Mattox hesitate -- the rule was more to keep humans from being accidently injured in an emergency, and for the privacy of recovering patients, and to prevent loitering in the area, not because the Autobots didn't want humans around. 

What made him hesitate was the sign. It was about twice the size of the average dinner table, said "Unless you're bleeding out from your primary energon lines or otherwise dying, stay the frag out of my med bay" (in English and in several other languages at least one of which obviously wasn't human), and hadn't been there the last time Mattox had looked.

It didn't give Mattox any confidence in braving the lion's den.

"Doctor Jackson sent me here," he reminded himself, opening the gate and heading to the warehouse. Hopefully it would be enough to redirect the grumpy alien medic's temper.

"Ratchet," he called as he peeked into the open vehicle door to the warehouse.

The lime green robot looked up from the... thing in front of him. He did not seem like he was in a good mood. "What the slag do you want?"

"DoctorJacksonsentme!" The medic just waited. "I'm looking for Mirage. He said you'd be able to find him."

Ratchet's eye--optics flickered in a way Mattox found very unnerving, then said, "He's parked outside of the mess hall, on the north side. Recharging, so he won't answer anything that isn't an emergency call." His voice swung upwards at the end of the sentence, making it a question.

"No -- I just got voluntold to put up the sign." He held up the "Alien Racecar Parking Only" sign to demonstrate.

The Autobot just grunted and turned back to the thing he'd been examining earlier. Sergeant Mattox supposed that meant he was dismissed.

He went over to the north side of the mess hall. No cars, alien race cars or otherwise. Slightly frustrated, Mattox stomped along the walls thinking he was getting very tired of this hazing crap --

\-- And promptly tripped over thin air.

"What the fu--" the rest of the curse died as the air shimmered and fell away, revealing a blue and white race car. It transformed and all Mattox could do was squeak out, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

The robot just _looked_ at him for a long moment, then made a weird noise in his engine before folding back up into his race car form. The air shimmered again and the car was gone.

When his brain could finally do something other than run in panicked little circles of "WTF -- invisible! -- Itrippedonhim -- WTF", he hurriedly attached the sign to the near outer wall of the mess hall, and made a strategic retreat. Dignity be damned.

Though he did make sure he didn't trip over the invisible Autobot on his way past.

An hour later a second sign joined the first on the wall: "Caution -- Invisible Tripping Hazard."

 

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